Hi and Dry

Of all of the natural disasters that are possible, I have to confess that flooding always seemed like the runty little brother of the bunch. Tornadoes, hurricanes, earthquakes, even lightning strikes are more impressive, seem more dangerous somehow than flooding. Maybe it's because I lived far from the Mississippi Valley in 1993 that I felt this way, but I just never really thought flood warnings were anything to worry too much about.

Now it's a different story. A flood is certainly a different type of event than the others, but it's equally powerful and devastating. A flood is slow, with the water creeping up inch by inch. It lasts a long time - today, three days after cresting the river is still a foot above the previous record flood level. And it's deceptive - you think you have time to prepare, time to get out, time to protect your stuff. But over and over in the past week we've seen stories of the sandbagging efforts proving futile. The hospital flooding despite the hundreds of volunteers working furiously to stop it. It's a more cruel disaster, giving you the hope of being able to fight it, escape it, outsmart it, and then taking everything anyway.

Thankfully we live far enough from any river or creek that we were never in any danger from the flood, but we know plenty of others who came scarily close and a few who may have lost everything.

It's incredibly surreal to be so close to such a huge disaster. I am so grateful that we weren't directly impacted though that the ways we have been effected continue to surprise me. For the last several days I'll think about going somewhere in the city or doing something there only to remember that we can't get there from here anymore or that it may not be open or happening anymore. Additionally frustrating is feeling like I can't do much to help. I love our girls, but they sort of made it impossible to rush out to sandbag or volunteer at a shelter. And now that things are changing to focus on clean-up & recovery the situation isn't much different. I can't (or won't) take them with me, and I don't have many options for leaving them behind. Not that I want to leave them at all, but I just feel torn. It may be that caring for them and enabling the Professor to go help is all I can do besides pray.

So I watch the continuous news coverage for every last piece of information. I become an expert on which roads are closed, water usage restrictions, checkpoints, and FEMA registration even though little of it applies to us. And I stare at the images on the screen of familiar streets and buildings turned into an alien landscape and wonder how life for any of us will ever be the same.